


undress quickly, to catch life red-handed

by seinmit



Series: Writing the Rainbow [9]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Clothing Porn, Established Relationship, F/M, Romantic Fluff, implied offscreen D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/pseuds/seinmit
Summary: Shuri probably insisted on coming on this mission for the excuse to wear a gown, but Bucky wasn't complaining.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Shuri
Series: Writing the Rainbow [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567993
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32
Collections: Writing Rainbow Red





	undress quickly, to catch life red-handed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> From [Psalm V](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/89734/psalm-v) by Julia Fiedorczuk, translated from Polish by Bill Johnston.

Shuri had been steadily chattering into her earpiece, sharing every little thought she had about the people around her. 

"You're going to look like a crazy person," Bucky murmured into his champagne glass. 

There was a pointed silence of Shuri resisting the joke, the easy _you'd know_ , but even the pause was enough to make a laugh bubble up in Bucky, sincere and uncomplicated joy that he was here, with her, even from the other side of the party and in a place where they could joke about it. 

"You're ridiculous," she said, her voice fond. Maybe Bucky wasn't carrying her purse like a proper date, but he figured that the pocketful of advanced electronics was functionally the same, when the girl was Shuri.

"You're the one who insisted you weren't going to be shown up by Zendaya." 

"And I look amazing," she said. 

"I kinda think the red is too much, with all that fabric. There's a reason why her Met gown was in a neutral." 

He could see her head pop up from across the room and he had to turn away to get more shrimp from the buffet in order not to be obvious about dopily grinning. 

"Who let you read Vogue, asshole." 

"I follow you on Tumblr," he said. "Everything about me is essentially your fault." 

"Shut up," she said, and he could hear the tiny intake of breath, waited for what else she'd say—but no, there was the target showing his face. 

"Bucky," she said, tone changed. He didn't nod into thin air—he would be way less charming if people thought _he_ was losing his mind, given his famous face—but his shoulders twitched as he straightened. It wasn't painful to fold his affection away for later nowadays, since he knew he could get it back, and he could break into the now-empty office with no distraction. 

The mission went smoothly. He probably didn't even need Shuri here to supervise; her tech was reliable. But if Shuri wanted to wear a gown, Bucky wasn't going to complain. 

When he was done planting the bugs, he gave up the artifice. Shuri was talking to some starlet he didn't recognize, and he made his way toward her, feeling strange echos of a long time ago. The music was different, he was different, but there was a core similarity in what it meant to watch a beautiful woman from across the room and decide to go to her. 

He wasn't sure what the ladies of Brooklyn would have thought of her architectural marvel of a dress. She had explicitly gone for a supervillain vibe, with a swooping high collar and a red that someone with less experience in the subject might have called the color of blood. He liked it and had laughed at the suggestion he wear his old uniform, to complete her dominatrix aesthetic. 

He preferred the tux, and judging by the way her eyes drifted from her conversational partner as he approached, she didn't mind it too much. 

"Princess," he said gravely. 

"Ahh, what is it?" she said, her chin going up a few inches. "Are you here to ruin my fun?" 

"I'm afraid there's a call for you from Wakanda," he said. He was better dressed than a lot of the bodyguards, but his bulk and infamy would have made him good at it, if she needed it.

She rolled her eyes and the starlet looked sympathetic. 

"Don't be royal," Shuri said, with a heave of her chest. "Just keep on being rich and beautiful; responsibilities are such a bore." 

This wasn't fair. Bucky felt his snicker in the back of his throat like an itch, but he kept his face stern.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he said. She huffed and kissed the woman on the cheek and marched away—or tried to. The dress was cut severely, the collar swooping down to a sharp facade, almost masculine in its straight lines, before jutting out fiercely into a huge skirt. He knew the taffeta that gave it volume was not easy to walk in. 

He followed after her sedately, letting her enjoy her playacting. 

When they were out of the glittering party, in the cool and faintly damp London night, he watched her bare back move in a deep sigh. He could see her shake off the imperious posture, turning back to him with a grin. 

"You may pretend you're just a dutiful member of the household help by respectfully walking behind me, but I know you're just staring at my ass." 

"I can't see your ass in that dress," he said, but he let it be evident on his face that he _had_ been looking at her, studying the way her shoulders pushed up from underneath her skin, the river of her spinal cord that flowed from neck to where the fabric cruelly concealed the small of her back, hiding the perfect curve of her ass. 

It was strange how alone they felt suddenly, in the faded light spilling out from the party. He couldn't help himself from taking the few big steps he needed to be near her, in her space. 

She looked up at him, smiling, and he leaned in slowly—he remembered this game, the way it was sweet to let this exact moment linger. He could smell her perfume, redolent with cardamom and saffron enough that it made him think of the streets of her city, see her earrings glimmering with the gold of the palace. 

Shuri didn't come to him—they both liked it when he was the one to bend. Most people wouldn't guess the deep well of stillness she had in the bedroom, but it always made Bucky feel hot and squirming underneath his skin, grateful for the chance to fall apart. 

Right now, though, he just kissed her lips chastely, the wax of her dark lipstick not heated enough to smear—but he wanted to be right there, in her space, because when he scooped her up she laughed, and he liked the way that he could feel the puff of that air go into his body. 

"Bucky!" she said, laughing and reaching one arm around his neck. She was solid and the dress was no joke, but she was weightless for him. He grinned and adjusted his grip on her, making sure she was comfortable and that he wouldn't tear the dress. 

"I've got places to be," he said. "No time to watch you stumble for fashion." 

She swatted his shoulder, playful. It wasn't anything, but he couldn't help remember the other ways they liked for her to hit him and feel the simmer of it in his body. 

"We must get back to the hotel as soon as possible," he said. "Big Wakandan emergency, very important that you be able to handle it." 

"Don't flatter yourself," she said. "You aren't that big of a deal." 

He smiled and knew she was right; he was small-time now. Shuri settled herself in his grasp and pulled the regality of a Queen back up over her posture. She pointed in front of them, showing him the way. 

"Well?" she said, arch. 

"Princess," he said, and went where she told him to go.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Palm V**  
>  _Julia Fiedorczuk_  
>  Beauty exists, _la ermozura egziste_ and paradises  
> are not artificial, yet how can one have fans  
> of ginkgo, green right next to yellow, and human  
> faces in the sunshine, pearls of architecture and thoughts  
> about the dust that we become? Two days later  
> I remember only theory, what we said concerning  
> the mathematics of the Alhambra and the fragments  
> of poems, so I undress quickly, to catch life  
> red-handed, to relish the goodness  
> of your home amid the hills encircled  
> by a wedding party where I seek and find, seek  
> and do not find, seek and disappear and — 


End file.
